


the morning before

by robokittens



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Breakfast, Hux's Time is Very Important, M/M, Pre-Canon, The Syrup is a Metaphor, This Isn't Crack it's Just Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6055798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is, Hux is certain, something important he should be doing <em>right now</em>. He can't just sit around all day eating flatcakes and fantasizing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the morning before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reserve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/gifts).



> happy birthday [reserve](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve)! the gratuitous smut can't be your gift since you're beta'ing it, so here's some nonsense. i hope your entire year is a joy and a delight ♥
> 
> thank you so much to [ouroboros](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ouroboros) for the beta!

The door slides open, and Hux takes a hesitant step inside.

He's never been in Kylo Ren's quarters before, and with good reason: he's never wanted to. He doesn't particularly want to now, either, but Snoke had commands that Ren needed to be informed of _promptly_.

And Hux, of course, is stuck playing errand boy. Certainly, the message itself was a matter of secrecy, but Hux sees no reason someone couldn't have been sent to fetch Ren. But _Find Kylo Ren_ , Leader Snoke had said, and find Kylo Ren Hux has.

The door opens on to a sort of antechamber, black walls and low lights. Hux steps inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness; the door shuts silently behind him.

 _This way_ , Ren says. It's loud, for all that it's just in Hux's head; Hux tries not to startle, even though there's no one to see him.

Ren always sounds different when he's speaking into Hux's mind: younger, and without the voice modulation the mask provides. Hux assumes it's how he sounded before … before whatever happened that lead him to need the mask. There's something a little sad about that, that his mental voice never updated itself.

Well. Hux has no time for pity. Nor, he is certain, would Ren desire it.

 _This way_ , Ren says again, a touch of impatience to it this time. Hux follows along the corridor.

It opens up into a kitchen of sorts. There's a service droid bustling about at the stove. Ren's mask is sitting carelessly upon the table, his cape thrown over the back of the chair he's seated on. The entire room smells of flatcakes.

Ren has a face.

 _Oh_ , Hux thinks, rather foolishly.

"I didn't realize you ate," he says, just as foolishly.

Ren's face is … nice. Certainly not disfigured. His nose is a bit large, if Hux is choosing to be uncharitable.

"I eat," Ren says. Out loud. He sounds cranky.

"I've never seen you do it." Hux brushes imaginary lint from his lapel. He's not sure where to look. Looking Ren in the eyes seems somewhat — disrespectful? distasteful? — and besides, Ren is _still eating_.

There's a loud scrape as Ren pushes his chair back, standing. His hair is long and luxurious. Hux really hadn't been expecting it.

Nor is he expecting it when Ren, still sounding cranky, asks, "Would you like some breakfast?"

" — What?"

"Breakfast. Would you like some?" He frowns, his mouth twisting. Hux tries not to stare. "You must be missing breakfast to have come to me. Certainly whatever you need to discuss can be discussed over flatcakes."

"Supreme Leader Snoke had a message for you," Hux says. He's sitting down, much to his own bewilderment, with a nod of thanks. There's a sense of politeness, decorum, that has been hardwired into him over the years, and he can't just ignore it. He folds his gloves on the table, next to Ren's mask.

Ren taps the droid on the head. It whirrs around, and before long there's a plate of hot flatcakes in front of Hux, and he and Ren are seated across from each other. Eating.

"These are delicious," Hux says after a moment, only a touch awkwardly. Ren merely nods in acknowledgement.

The silence is almost physically painful. Hux finds himself clutching his knife and fork far tighter than necessary.

He really ought to deliver Snoke's message.

"This is all very domestic," he says instead, a bit snottily. All his efforts to contain his sarcasm fall flat in the face of … Ren's face. He can't get over it. The large, dark eyes; the full lips. The furrowed brow.

"My childhood was not much like this," Ren says. It almost sounds like a confession. An admission, at least. Hux laughs.

"I don't really think of you as having had a childhood." _I don't really think of you as having grown up. You still act like a child_ , he doesn't say.

Ren scowls. Likely he heard it anyway. 

"You know of my grandfa—"

"Yes, yes." Hux cuts him off hurriedly. "Your grandfather, the great Darth Vader. Which implies you have parents, who presumably had some hand in raising you. I do have some understanding of how these things work," he adds dryly.

"That's all the past." Ren's tone is unnecessarily brusque, especially given that he'd brought it up, Hux thinks.

He's just as severe when he asks, "Would you like more flatcakes?" 

Hux has to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Mentally. Physically, he sets his fork on the table a bit more forcefully than necessary, but otherwise retains his composure.

"Very kind of you, but no thank you." _This has been odd enough_.

Ren nods. The movement makes a spot of syrup on his face catch the light, and Hux barely stops himself from reaching out.

"You've got a little —" Giving in, he gestures vaguely.

He would like to say he doesn't stare at Ren licking his lips, but it would be a definite lie. It's a mesmerizing sight.

It's also an ineffective movement.

"No," Hux says, "You haven't," and much to his own horror he _does_ reach out. He swipes his thumb under Ren's full lower lip, through the patch of sticky syrup there.

He wonders briefly if it was some sort of Force control that lead him to do it, but Ren looks just as stunned as Hux feels.

"Got it," Hux says weakly.

Ren reaches out and snags Hux's wrist.

That quick movement is followed by an impossibly slow moment as Ren's long fingers wrap around Hux's forearm, as Ren drags Hux's hand toward himself.

 _Oh_ , Hux thinks, _so this is where this is going._

The delicate swirl of Ren's tongue over the pad of his thumb feels inevitable.

At most, Hux has perhaps spared a fraction of a thought toward whether Ren was in possession of a mouth at all. Now he knows, too well, the answer to that question: he can't stop staring as the tip of his thumb disappears between Ren's red lips. They're still faintly sticky with syrup, even as Ren sucks all remaining traces of the substance from Hux's thumb.

It's a deliberately evocative gesture. Hux shifts in his seat. He doesn't, can't, move far.

Ren releases his wrist. Hux's thumb leaves Ren's mouth with a wet _pop_ noise.

Hux shifts again. His hand is still hanging in the air between them. It's a physical effort to bring it back down.

Ren's mouth twists in a movement that Hux is almost certain is meant to be a smile.

Hux can't stop staring at Ren's lips. It's — it's awful of him, it's unbecoming, it's _rude_. But he can't, can't stop imagining those perfect lips wrapped around his cock. He can't think about anything else.

His hand finally hits the table with a defiant _thwack_. He pushes his chair back and begins to stand.

"Don't," Ren says. It's surprisingly quiet. It's almost a request.

"I must go," Hux says stiffly. He has a job to do, after all. There is, he's certain, something important he should be doing _right now_. He can't just sit around all day eating flatcakes and fantasizing. 

"You don't —" Ren clears his throat. Stops talking, says _You don't have to just fantasize._ directly into Hux's mind, as if he's ashamed to say it aloud.

If Hux isn't mistaken, Ren is actually _blushing_.

This definitely ranks up as one of the strangest days of Hux's life.

"I should —" he tries again, but doesn't get far.

Hux has seen Ren Force-choke someone before, and it's not a pretty sight. He's never been on the receiving end of it, but he's imagined what it would feel like.

He's almost certain it would feel nothing like this, a gentle phantom hand on the back of his neck, propelling him forward irresistibly.

Ren brushes his lips against Hux's, then again, more firmly. "Now go," he murmurs, without moving away. As quiet as it is, it still somehow sounds like a command.

The pressure on the back of Hux's neck lifts, and he stumbles backward, barely catching himself on the chair.

"Go," Ren says again. It's stronger this time. More his usual, imperious self.

"I'm going," Hux says curtly. He picks up his gloves from the table — snatches them up, honestly; his lack of composure will, assuredly, be humiliating in retrospect.

He gathers himself enough to sneer at Ren as he's pulling his gloves on, and takes a step backward. "Good day," he says, his voice sliding back into its proper formality. He absolutely does not flee Ren's quarters.

It's only when the door slides shut behind him that he realizes: he's forgotten to deliver Snoke's message. Which means … he has to go back. He curses under his breath.

Before he so much as has a chance to knock, the door slides back open. Kylo Ren is standing there, far enough back from the door as to be shrouded in shadow. "You've forgotten something," Ren says, and Hux is just close enough to see those perfect lips curl into a smirk. 

"Please," Ren says. "Do come in."


End file.
